


This bullfight with gravity

by scrollgirl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrollgirl/pseuds/scrollgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with being former senior staff is you can spot spin at fifty paces. Tag for "Angel Maintenance" in which Sam worries and Will reassures him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This bullfight with gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).



> [](http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/profile)[**pocky_slash**](http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/) wrote Sam/Will for me, with [**Will trying to write an email to Sam**](http://pocky-slash.livejournal.com/979250.html?thread=3459378#t3459378), and lo, it was awesome. And we babbled a little about how adorable Josh Malina is, and how Sam and Will need some serious cuddling. And lo, I wrote this.

Sam meets Will at the door with a fierce hug. "You're home, you're okay," says Sam, arms tight around his waist. "I saw the news."

Will thinks he might have bruises tomorrow from the way Sam's fingers are digging into his sides, but he says nothing, just clings back, his face buried in the warm dip between Sam's neck and shoulder. "I'm fine, we're all fine. It was just an indicator light that didn't go off, nothing to worry about," he says reassuringly, and actually believing it for the first time all night. "They took good care of us up there," he adds when Sam's grip on him loosens.

Pressing his lips lightly to Will's, Sam manages a shaky smile. "Yeah, I know, the news said it was just a light, but that's not what --" He breaks off, turns to help Will with his coat and briefcase. "Forget it, you've had a long day. Want some dinner? I made pasta earlier."

Will follows Sam into the kitchen. "But that's not what?" he asks, staring at the open bottle of Jack's sitting on the kitchen counter. "Have you been drinking?"

Sam is at the fridge with a Tupperware container in one hand. "I poured myself one glass," he mutters, with a hint of anger. "And I haven't even finished it, so don't give me any crap."

"I'm not," says Will, coming up close behind him, kissing the nape of his neck. "I wouldn't do that."

Sam doesn't seem to hear him. "You were supposed to be home hours ago, so I called Toby and I called Josh, and neither of them would tell me anything except a load of bullshit about a truck spilling fuel on the runway." He stares blindly at the contents of the fridge. "So this really isn't the night for it."

He understands why Sam is upset. Will has spent the better part of the night feeling sick to his stomach on Air Force One, so it's not that he doesn't understand why Sam is upset. "I'm sorry I didn't call you from the plane."

"What would you have said?" Sam knows all the lines, knows how to detect spin. "That you were fine? You weren't fine, Will."

"I wouldn't have lied to you," says Will, certain of that much. Which is why he hadn't called. He takes the Tupperware from Sam and puts it back in the fridge.

Sam frowns but doesn't protest. "Why don't you take a shower," he says instead. "I'll make you some honey water. It'll help settle your stomach."

"Honey water?" Sam kisses him instead of answering, a slow and lingering kiss that has Will ready to take off his pants and forgo the shower. He slips a hand under Sam's T-shirt to feel the warm, smooth skin of his back. "Come take a shower with me," he whispers when Sam breaks the kiss.

"You'll be quicker on your own." But Sam kisses him again, his eyes open, a vivid blue. "Go on. You've been on the plane for how many hours?" He nudges Will toward the bathroom. "I'll wait for you in bed."

With 'Sam' and 'bed' as incentives, Will doesn't dawdle in the bathroom. He towels his hair mostly dry, enough that he's not dripping, then pulls on clean boxers. When he comes into the bedroom, he finds Sam standing by the window, staring down at the street.

"Sam?"

"Your drink is on the nightstand," says Sam, tilting his head at Will's side of the bed. "Honey water is better than ginger ale because it's natural sugar, not chemicals."

Will gets into bed, scooting to sit up against the headboard as he sips his drink. The warmth is welcome and, as promised, the honey is soothing and does help to settle his stomach. He cradles the mug in his hands, relishing the heat. "Want to tell me what's on your mind?"

Shrugging, Sam twitches the curtains closed and climbs into bed, turning on his side to gaze up at Will with a troubled expression. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this," he admits, his voice low and strained. "Being on the outside."

Taking a minute to absorb his words, Will finishes his drink and sets the mug aside. "I don't know what I'd do if it were me," he says, finally, shaken by the very idea of Sam in danger and not being there, of not even being kept in the loop. Will shifts down in bed and pulls the covers up over them both. "If you were the one with the bulls-eye painted on your back because of who you worked for. I mean --" Will fumbles for Sam's hand, and takes a deep breath when Sam laces their fingers together. "You _were_ here, only a few months ago, but that was before... you know. Before this."

Sam brings his other hand up to touch Will's mouth, to trace the generous curve of his lips. "My best friend nearly _died_, Will," he says harshly, painfully. "I was there that night. I saved CJ but I couldn't save him." His hand moves to the back of Will's neck to pull him close. They lie face to face, foreheads pressed together. "What if something happens again and I'm not there? What if you get hurt?" Sam's eyes look bruised. "Or worse?"

Will wants to say, 'It was just an indicator light' or 'Nothing bad is ever going to happen' or 'I won't get shot like Josh did', but there is nothing to say that doesn't sound like foolish optimism, nothing that isn't a hollow promise, and so Will simply kisses Sam on the mouth, gently, wanting to comfort.

With Sam cupping his face, Will rolls onto his back and pulls Sam on top of him. "I never want to hurt you," he whispers to him, a pledge. Sam's eyes are the sky at forty thousand feet and Will's heart is thudding hard against his ribcage. He's flying. "I'll stay as safe as I can. Okay?" He holds his gaze until Sam nods.

"You'd better," says Sam, gruffly, looking a little embarrassed now by the conversation. To change subjects, he kneels up to pull off his T-shirt, smiling a bit when Will turns pink, as he always does when he gets turned on. "You've got the Bailey genes on your side, at least. You're all ridiculously healthy and long-lived."

"Hmm?" Will isn't paying attention to anything except the skin being bared. He strokes down Sam's chest, following the ridges of abdominal muscles until he hits the belly button, then the narrow trail of dark hair. "C'mon, take 'em off," he says, tugging impatiently at the knotted drawstring of his jogging pants.

Grinning, Sam leans forward again to capture Will's mouth in a deep kiss. "Mmm," he hums, his tongue chasing after Will's until both of them are panting and hard. Sam pulls back with a breathless laugh. "You taste like honey."

"Does that make you the fly?" Will quips, but Sam's smile grows pensive. "What?"

"As long as I'm the only one you're trying to attract," says Sam, quietly. "Considering my reaction to what happened tonight, I think it's safe to say you've... got me pretty good."

When he walked in the door tonight, and found himself wrapped up in Sam's arms, Will had known he was in love. He has known this for months now. "The feeling's mutual," he promises, drawing Sam in for another kiss.

"It's not the fall that's gonna kill you," Sam murmurs, just before their lips meet.

Will doesn't hear him over the roaring in his ears.


End file.
